


Save Room

by rightonthelimit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom wasn't entirely sure when he had started developing feelings for Hermione.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Room

**Author's Note:**

> For Pintoness :)

**A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Save Room**

If there was one thing that Tom Riddle had never thought to find out about himself, it was that he absolutely  _loved_ hugs.

But not just any kind of hugs.

Hermione Granger's hugs.

He loved hugs that came from Hermione Granger because they involved her delicate arms wrapping around his waist, her flower scented hair tucked underneath his chin and her soft breasts pressing against the flat plane of his torso. He liked how, when he inhaled deep enough, she still smelt of the books she so desperately clung to beneath the sweet scent of the perfume she had been using lately.

His best friend was aging slowly – turning from the strange, frizzy haired girl Tom had stood up for when kids had been bullying her at the playground into a beautiful and intelligent young woman. Tom wasn't entirely sure when he had been starting to develop feelings for Hermione, but he did know that other girls just annoyed him. They kept hanging out around him, kept asking him out and batting their lashes at him. Tom didn't like other girls who had make up smeared all over their faces.

He liked Hermione Granger. He liked how she could walk out in the rain without her face looking like it was melting, liked how she could spend hours in the library, liked how she understood Tom's thirst for knowledge and he liked how he could get along with her other friends and she with his.

'Aren't you just a little ray of sunlight?' Hermione asked with an amused tone in her voice when they broke apart. Tom huffed and ignored the need to wrap his arms around her narrow waist again. He liked that dip above her bum where he usually rested his hands – he could easily lift her up, if he wanted to. When they walked next to each other she just reached his shoulder but Tom thought that the way he had to bend down to get to eye level was quite nice, actually, and he liked it when she stood on the tips of her toes when she was attempting to whisper something in his ear.

He pretty much liked everything about her, actually.

They were standing in the hallway, right in front of Tom's locker. Their school was slowly becoming livelier with the way students were drooping in one by one and Tom overheard a group of girls talk about what dresses they'd wear for prom. They weren't the only ones excited about prom.

Last week, when Tom had gotten out from the shower after P.E. even the guys had been talking about what girls to ask, where to hire tuxedos... There was this tension in the air and for as much as Tom would've loved to ignore it like usual… He wanted to ask Hermione to be his prom date. It was stupid, it was childish, but that didn't take away that he wanted to take her to prom, to see her all dressed up for  _him_.

'What got you so happy today?' Tom asked in return. He shifted his books on his arm and she wrapped her own arm around his free one, looking indeed incredibly happy. There was a brief moment of frustration at the thought of someone else having asked Hermione (hadn't that exchange student been staring at Hermione these past weeks?) but it ebbed away as soon as it came when she started talking again.

'Not much. Just, you know, the feeling of having done a good deed this weekend. And what did  _you_ do this weekend, mister Riddle?' The light tone in her voice indicated that she was indeed in a very good mood. She was referring to how she always helped out at the animal shelter in her weekends and how she always tried to convince Tom to come with her.

Tom snorted.

'I have engaged myself in the productive act of sleeping, if you must know,' he said and he could feel himself smirk when Hermione scoffed. Her hair bounced with every step she took and her nails dug playfully into his bicep.

'You're getting lazier by the day,' she said with a dismissive shake of the head and Tom shrugged.

'On the contrary - I've been so productive lately I wound up utterly exhausting myself. I think I'm entitled to catch up with the sleep I've been missing out on with all the studying I have been doing the past week -'

'Oh  _please_. Like you'd ever get a bad grade,' Hermione interrupted him and they shared a look. Besides being friends, they were also rivals. Tom didn't mind – he liked good competition because it drove him to work harder and more efficiently.

No, that wasn't right.

 _She_ was the one to drive him to do those things. And it wasn't even that Tom would hate losing to her. It was just that if he was constantly proven to be better than her, she'd come to him to get him to explain her things she was having trouble with. Which inevitably forced them to spend more time together.

'I'll have you know that I've once had a B- for my art assignment, actually,' Tom said and he gripped his chest, 'I don't think I've ever cried that hard.'

Hermione laughed. The sound of it was pleasant, and there was a certain smug satisfaction at seeing her like this because of  _him_. 'But that was your own fault. You can't  _seriously_ just sketch a book on the night before the deadline and lie your way through it. The assignment was to make something that portrayed your identity, Tom, and I still think that the only reason why Ms Trelawney didn't give you an F was because she loves you.'

'I think you just broke my poor, fragile heart. We both know it was well thought through and you are severely underestimating me as an artist.'

But she had been right. The only subject Tom didn't get remarkable grades in was Art, because he found the subject a complete waste of his time. She laughed again, and they walked into their Spanish classroom. 'And here I was thinking you didn't have a heart,' she replied. They sat down at their usual desks next to each other and Tom's eyebrow cocked up.

'Truly, Hermione? That's the best you can come up with?'

She looked at him, amusement glimmering in her eyes.

'Shut up, Riddle,' she said even if her voice held no bite. Tom smirked and grabbed his notebook, turning to the teacher when she asked the class for their attention.

It wasn't like Tom was afraid to tell her how he felt. No, not in the slightest. He wasn't like Weasley who stuttered and stammered and utterly tripped over his words. He  _knew_ his way with words and he wouldn't treat Hermione like she was fragile. He had decent manners and he always let ladies go first and held open doors, but Hermione Granger… she was different. She didn't giggle or blush when he did so.

She'd roll her eyes and stride right past him, and he could appreciate that in her. Some may say she was rude when she did so and Tom was certain the dirty looks other girls shot her whenever she smacked Tom on the head (usually when she thought Tom was being arrogant or, in her words, 'obnoxious') didn't go unnoticed by her. But that was the thing about Hermione Granger.

She didn't give a goddamn thing about what anyone thought or said of her, because she  _knew_ she knew better.

And for as much as he loved that about her, he knew that that was exactly what was holding him back. Hermione  _knew_ what she needed, and even if Tom was convinced that he could make her fall for him if she hadn't already… she wouldn't jump for joy like most girls would if he would just ask her. The moment had to be perfect.

He sucked on the backside of his pen and leaned back in his seat, his eyebrows knitting together in thought.

But perfect how? He wouldn't resort to something as pathetic as passing notes through class and he doubted she would appreciate it… no, he'd have to ask her face to face, definitely. Getting time alone with her wouldn't be that difficult since they usually did their homework together and he walked her home every day as well…

He released his pen and placed it on his desk, frown slipping off his face. Maybe he should just do it. Maybe he should just… yes, okay. He was going to ask her this afternoon and then he'd just see how things would go. The worst that could happen was that she would say no, anyways, and Tom wouldn't be expecting that.

He glanced at her and she looked back at him, before she smiled softly. The corner of Tom's mouth kicked up too, and he turned his attention back to his teacher again. He was fully aware of how her eyes lingered on his face.

* * *

They were seated at a table in the far corner of the library that afternoon, and the only sounds that Tom could hear were her soft breaths, the subtle scribbling noise of pen over paper whenever she took notes and the occasional sound of either one of them flipping a page.

Hermione's hand was resting right next to Tom's and if Tom would stretch his fingers he would be capable of grabbing the dainty appendage. He had never quite appreciated how Hermione's nails were short and well kept, but now, as he sat there, he couldn't help but be utterly fascinated with the way she looked when she was studying.

Her soft brown hair was tossed over her shoulders as she didn't like it when it got in the way while she was reading, and her lashes were long and nearly brushed over her cheekbones every time she blinked. She had freckles on her nose and cheekbones, and Tom had counted them while she had been engrossed in a book about the World War II.

17.

She had 17 freckles on her face and her brown eyes looked almost hazel, almost like liquid gold when she'd lean backwards a bit and the sun would shine in her eyes. Her plump, pink lips looked tempting enough and Tom just  _knew_ they'd be as soft as they were in his dreams.

How on earthdid his classmates prefer all those stupid, fake girls over Hermione Granger?

Asides from the daily hug and their linked arms when they walked in the hallways, they rarely touched. There was always that brush of knees against one another when they'd be sitting next to each other, those almost nervous looks Hermione sometimes sent him when Tom absentmindedly played with her hair… but he yearned to do so much more. He just wanted to be capable of reaching out and kissing her – wanted it to be natural for her to lean into it and kiss him back.

His feelings sickened him, and he lowered his eyes back to his book on the human anatomy. It was silly how he was constantly keeping himself from confessing his feelings toward her.

It wasn't like she could actually  _hurt_ him. If she didn't like him then Tom would simply have to make her like him – he was attractive enough. Maybe it was just the idea of this being the first time he was actually serious about a girl that just made him like this.

She cleared her throat, and Tom glanced back up at her. Her fingers were trailing down the long column of her neck and for a moment Tom just watched them, watching as they stroked the skin delicately, as if she didn't know what it did to him. His eyes trailed up slowly to her plush lips, to her cupid's bow, to her cute nose… and when he looked into her eyes, he realized she had been looking at him all along. He didn't blush or stammer or look away and instead he just stared at her, as if challenging her to look away.

But she didn't. She never would, because she was different. She was a teenage girl, oh yes, very much so, but she was somehow just so much more mature at the same time. Like she was a woman already who sometimes simply fell back into old habits.

'How's your book?' she asked at last, and Tom's eyes temporarily flicked down at the printed sketch of a spine.

'Interesting,' he said, and he could tell she was unsure if he was talking about his book or something else.

Like her.

She moved her lips but seemed to decide against it and just slowly nodded instead, lowering her eyes to her own book again.

Despite how easy it was to snap sarcastic comments at one another, they both couldn't deny that there really was something there, between them. When it was just the two of them things were different. Like neither one of them wanted to do something that may scare the other off regardless of the unfelt remarks they exchanged when in public.

No, when they were in private they weren't really best friends that just did their homework together. In private, they were… something else. Something that made Hermione tense up and sit a bit straighter, and something that kept Tom from uttering sarcastic words.

Tom had this funny feeling in his stomach whenever she was near. It was hard to explain and at first he just thought he was getting sick, but it wasn't the case at all. His need for her was like a fever, sometimes, with the way it only seemed to grow worse and cloud his mind from rational thoughts.

It didn't make any sense at all.

Hermione was biting her lip and Tom sighed, making her look up again.

'You really shouldn't do that, you're ruining your lips,' he said without really thinking too much of it. She blinked at him in surprise and Tom realized that what he had said indicated he had been staring at her mouth.

'Oh,' she simply said, and she slowly released her lip. An awkward silence fell upon them and Tom temporarily turned his eyes back to his book, frowning a bit to himself. He could either brush this off and never speak of it again, or… Now would be a great time to tell her what he felt for her.

He stood up and sat down in the seat next to her again, and her brown eyes bored into Tom's the entire time. He reached forward and she moved a bit to the right, as if she wasn't sure what to do. When he just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she sighed and licked her lips.

She just looked so pretty like this, with her brown eyes all wide and expecting. So  _young,_ suddenly. Very much like the 17 year old girl she was.

There was a possibility that she had been thinking about this as well. About kissing Tom, that is - for as far as Tom knew she had never been kissed before... He was leaning forward, and he was about to do just that, his lips just in front of hers when –

'What are you doing, Tom?'

He froze and looked at her, but didn't move away. Her voice wasn't stern, wasn't afraid nor playful… it was just a question. He didn't make her nervous, just confused.

Tom didn't answer her, because he simply wasn't the kind of person to be all sappy about his feelings. He could, ofcourse, just pretend he was... but being dishonest never did work out in his favor, when he was being so towards Hermione. Instead he just grabbed her hand and placed it right above his heart, which was beating surprisingly fast. Hermione gasped, and their noses brushed together when she moved backwards just a bit so she could look him properly in the eye.

'It does that, when you're near,' he simply said, like it should explain everything. He saw it only confused her further and this time her cheeks were turning pink in just the slightest, most charming way. She didn't remove her hand, though, and it felt warm. He could feel her fingertips press against his chest through the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. 'I like it when you touch me. It makes me feel warm, here.'

He guided her hand lower and stopped at the center of his flat stomach, his hand folding almost completely over hers. She looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end she didn't, and she looked at their joined hands instead. He was unsure why he was saying things that he hadn't thought through first, but he found that he enjoyed knowing that Hermione _knew_ of his feelings.

Deciding that she wasn't going to push him away, he felt more confident to continue. He moved his hand off hers, and her hand lingered on his stomach before she pulled away.

Tom reached out and touched her lips, and they quivered.

'I want to kiss you, here,' Tom confessed and his thumb ran along a smooth lower lip. Hermione hesitantly reached forward and her fingertips danced along Tom's jaw.

Tom's fingers left her lips and trailed down again, stopping at Hermione's throat. They wrapped around it, not as a threat, but as a caress, to see how it fit in his palm. He felt her swallow and how it constricted against his hand made him feel like he was in control of the situation, even if he was the one showing a more vulnerable side of himself.

'And I want to kiss you, here, too.' His fingertips brushed against Hermione's neck. He had thought of it before, admittedly too often. It was just that Hermione sometimes, almost absentmindedly, brushed her fingers over the long column of her throat like she wanted it to be touched. Marked, even.

And no matter how childish things like hickeys were… he would love to see her wear a mark of his, one day. Just to show that she belonged to him.

'I just want  _you_ ,' Tom concluded, and Hermione blinked at him as if she hadn't seen that one coming. Which should be ridiculous considering… wait – maybe she just couldn't comprehend that  _anyone_ would want her? She swallowed again, and her fingers curled around Tom's wrist. She held it.

'Tom,' she said softly, uselessly. It was the tone of her voice that said more than her words could have – she sounded emotional, confused… but there was a hint of happiness as well. Tom glanced at her lips, before he looked back into her eyes again and then he leaned in close and press his lips against hers.

This was… this was good. Amazing. Their position was rather awkward as Tom had to twist his upper body toward Hermione and Hermione's body was still facing forward, but… it truly did feel good. The press of her plush lips – god, they felt even better in real life – was so soft and delicate and innocent and he reached forward and ran his fingers through her hair. She made a soft noise before gripping Tom's shoulders. She didn't push him away, and she even made a noise of protest when he moved away.

He pressed his forehead against hers and felt himself smile stupidly, and she sighed. Her hands felt warm when they slid over the back of his neck, into his hair.

'Yes,' she murmured and Tom looked at her. From this close proximity he could just see her eyes and the small dark brown flecks in her irises and he felt himself frown a bit in confusion.

'What?' he asked. She caressed his neck and licked her lips.

'You can't just kiss a girl and then not ask her to prom, Tom,' she said and it surprised him how quickly she had put herself back together when Tom was usually the one to always be in control, to be calm and collected. He didn't feel anything like it, at the moment, and he felt like what he actually was for once. A teenager.

'Okay,' he said rather stupidly, because all he wanted to do was kiss her again now that he knew that she was okay with it. She smiled, and then turned back to her book like nothing had happened. Tom's hand lingered on the small space between her shoulderblades and he watched her for a couple of seconds. She slid his book from where it had been lying across her next to her, subtly showing that things were still the same. Or maybe that she just wanted Tom to stop staring at her.

Either way, Tom grinned and grabbed it, leaning back in his seat and flipping it open again.

And sometimes Tom was just amused by how everything that involved Hermione Granger seemed so complicated, when really, when you finally got the hang of how she saw things… it really wasn't that difficult to please her, at all.

 


End file.
